


When I Come to You That's Where I Belong

by justkisa



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Silva and Marchena cuddled and one time they did slightly more than cuddle. Basically this is plot-free cuddling set before, during and after the 2010 World Cup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Come to You That's Where I Belong

_one_

David wakes up slowly. He can’t say what wakes him. Aside from the droning hum of the plane, there’s no noise around him. David keeps his eyes closed and rubs his cheek against his pillow, trying to resettle himself. Maybe he can go back to sleep. David’s pillow moves under his cheek and David, startled by the movement, lifts his head and opens his eyes. His pillow, it turns out, is Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos smiles at him. “Sorry,” David says, “sorry, I’ll just--” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “--just move back.”

Carlos reaches over and gently pushes David’s head back down onto his shoulder. “No, no, it’s all right.” He ruffles David’s hair. “Go back to sleep. You need your rest.”

“Thanks,” David says. He rearranges himself, pulling his arm up a little so it’s not sticking so awkwardly into his side. He closes his eyes and shifts a bit closer to Carlos.

He’s almost asleep when he feels Carlos move. He drags his eyes open. It’s not easy. They feel almost like they’ve been glued shut. He tries to focus on Carlos. “What?”

“Shh,” Carlos says, “I just--” He tips David forward a little and wraps his arm around David’s shoulders. “--there. That’s better, isn’t it?” David doesn’t bother to answer, he just puts his head back down and closes his eyes. Secure and comfortable in the warmth of Carlos’ closeness it’s very easy to fall back to sleep.

When David wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Carlos’ voice. “Come on,” Carlos says softly, shaking David gently, “Come on, it’s time to wake up. We’re here.”

_two_

“It’s not--”

“Don’t,” David snaps, cutting Carlos off. He doesn’t look up. Almost immediately he feels guilty about snapping. He looks up. “Sorry, I just--” He runs his hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

Carlos steps closer. He doesn’t touch David, which is good, David doesn’t want to be touched, to be consoled, not by anyone, not even by Carlos. “It’s okay.” Carlos’ voice is low and soothing.

David’s not ready to be soothed. He wants to hold on to this feeling of failure--of defeat--a little longer. He wants to look at his failings, at all the things he should have done differently. He wants to know them, to memorize them, so that he’ll do it differently next time, so that he won’t make those same mistakes again.

Carlos takes another step closer. He still doesn’t touch David. “Silva.”

David stares at Carlos and says, ”I should have--Carlos--” He can’t quite keep his anger--his disappointment--out of his voice. “--why didn’t I--”

“Enough,” Carlos says, “that’s enough.” Carlos leans in and looks David right in the eye. David almost reaches out to touch him. He actually stretches out his hand then snatches it back. He’s not quite ready to allow himself the comfort that touching Carlos would bring. “Listen to me, “ Carlos says, “you were not alone out there. It’s not your fault.”

David shakes his head. “It’s not all my fault.”

Carlos studies David intently for a moment. “Fair enough.” He pauses. “The next game will be different.”

David nods. He pushes himself off the wall and into Carlos’ space. He gets as close as he can without actually touching Carlos and then he waits. He doesn’t have to wait long. Carlos reaches out and wraps his arms around David. He pulls David close and says, “Next game, okay?” David nods and burrows into Carlos’ embrace. Pressed tightly into Carlos’ embrace, he lets himself relax, lets himself, at last, be comforted.

_three_

The world is a dizzying whirl of sound and light and color (red, always and only red). The only thing keeping David anchored to the ground is the reassuringly solid weight of Carlos’ arm around his shoulders. David wraps his arm around Carlos’ waist and fists his hand in Carlos’ jersey. The slippery smoothness of the fabric in his hand, the warmth of Carlos’ body against his arm, they ground him. They hold him still in this world gone mad with delirious, almost hysterical, happiness. That happiness, it drives everyone around them, sends them into an ever-moving, unending frenzy.

David doesn’t feel the need to join the frenzy. He doesn’t need or want anything more than to just be here, at Carlos’ side, at the edge of this glittering, wild sea of jubilation.

Ramos twirls by in a dancing rush of color and song and splatters them with beer. Carlos turns them, shields David from the splatter with his body. They hit the wall behind them in a laughing, tangled mess. Carlos smiles down at him. It’s a wild ecstatic sort of smile and it makes Carlos look like someone new--someone David’s never seen before.

David opens his mouth to say, well, he’s not sure what. Impulsively, he abandons words and, instead, leans up and presses his mouth against Carlos’ smile. Carlos tastes like beer and like tears David doesn’t remember seeing him cry. It’s just barely a kiss. Chaste and soft and over as soon as it’s begun. David can’t say why he does it. Maybe it’s because of the way Carlos looks all lit up with the thrill of victory. It makes him beautiful. He’s smiling and wildly joyous and pressed tightly against David, like the living embodiment of everything David’s ever wanted right there in David’s grasp.

David pulls back and starts to speak but he never gets the chance. Carlos pushes him against the wall and slants his mouth over David’s parted lips swallowing whatever David would have said. There’s nothing chaste in this--in Carlos’ kiss. David welcomes the fierceness of Carlos’ kiss. He just opens his mouth and lets Carlos in--surrenders completely. Carlos kisses David until he’s dizzy--until he can hardly breathe. Carlos pulls back and David scarcely has time to gasp for air before Carlos is kissing him again. Slowly this time and so deliberately and with such care that David can hardly bear it.

When Carlos pulls back again, David fists his hands in the front of Carlos’s jersey, grasping for some steadiness in a world spun fantastically askew by Carlos’ kisses. “David,” Carlos murmurs right against David’s mouth. It feels almost like a kiss. “David,” he says again and then he kisses David. This time it’s delicate--fleeting--just the barest brush of Carlos’ mouth against David’s.

Carlos pulls back, more completely this time. He rests his hands on David’s shoulders and stares at David. There’s an intensely fond expression on his face. He smiles and says, his voice rough and full of awe, “We won.”

David lets go of Carlos’ jersey and flattens his hands against Carlos’ chest. He slides his hand over and rests it right on top of the all-important star, the star they earned with blood and sweat and tears. No one can take that star from them. He smiles back at Carlos and says, “We did, didn’t we?” He traces the star with his fingers. It feels warm, almost alive under his fingers, like it’s part of Carlos himself. “We won.”

Carlos mirrors David’s actions, sliding his hand down off David’s shoulder and placing it over the star on David’s chest. “Yes, yes we did.”

_four_

When people begin to say goodbye, to take their leave of the team, David starts avoiding Carlos. It’s not on purpose, not exactly, it’s just easier. It’s easier to ignore what’s about to happen if he can’t see Carlos, if Carlos isn’t around. He doesn’t want to think about what’s going to happen next. He’s not ready. He wants to stay a little while longer in the warm euphoric embrace of victory where there’s no tomorrow just the frantic and joyous present.

Even outside Carlos’ presence, though, it’s impossible to avoid what’s coming. Every person David says goodbye to reminds him of it. Almost to a man, they say, “Good luck in England.”

Torres hugs David and says, “I’ll see you around.” He smiles kindly and says, “You’ll be fine.” After a second, he adds, “If you need, well, anything, call, okay?” David just nods.

Pepe comes by and smacks the back of David’s head. “Next time we see each other you’ll be speaking English to me, eh?” David does his best to smile for Pepe.

It’s all going fine. David can deal with the well wishes and Pepe’s gentle teasing. Even if it’s all England this and England that, every word a constant reminder of just how different this coming season is going to be from al the ones that came before it.

Then there’s Mata. He comes over to David and just stands there for a moment fiddling with his hands and looking, for once, just as young as he really is. This is going to be another kind of goodbye--a harder kind of goodbye. David steps closer to Mata. When it becomes clear that Mata’s not going to speak anytime soon, David says simply, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mata says. He’s staring down at his feet.

David leans in and wraps his arms around Mata. It takes Mata a moment to respond but, when he does, he squeezes David so hard that David can hardly breathe. David pats Mata’s back. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Mata pushes his face into David’s neck and mumbles, “Okay.” He doesn’t let go of David.

“You--” David stops. He doesn’t know how to continue, what to say. Finally he just says, “Win everything, okay? Show them how it’s done.”

When Mata finally pulls back, he’s smiling. He claps David on the shoulder. “Okay. And you, good luck, all right?” David nods. Mata turns to go then he looks back towards David. “Where’s Carlos? I was looking for him. I thought he might be with you.”

David shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Huh, “ Mata says, “Okay. Well, if you see him, tell him to come find me.” David nods. “Right, okay,” Mata says and waves before making off through the crowd.

David watches Mata until he can’t see him anymore. “Hey,” Villa says, from somewhere behind David. David turns around. Villa’s standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. He has an unsmiling almost unapproachable look on his face.

Off the pitch, David’s not always sure what to say to Villa. On the pitch, he’s never had a problem. There, on the pitch, it’s almost like they don’t need to talk, they just rely on years of built up understanding. But that understanding, it’s only for football, it’s not for other things. David tries to smile. Villa just keeps staring at him. Finally, David holds out his hand and says, “Good luck.” Villa’s gaze flickers down to David’s hand then back up. He doesn’t reach out and take David’s hand.

David’s just about to take his hand back when Villa steps forward and hugs David tight. It staggers David a bit and it takes him a moment before he reaches up to hug Villa back. The hug is over just as quickly as it had begun. Villa pulls back and slaps David’s shoulder. “You’re going to be fine.” David nods dumbly. Villa laughs a little. “Really, you will.” He pauses, then adds, more seriously, “More than fine. Great.”

David smiles. “You too. You--you and Barcelona--” He chokes a bit when he says Barcelona. Villa and Barcelona just don’t seem quite real to him yet, don’t seem quite right. He swallows and says, “It’s going to be great.” He hopes it sounds convincing.

Villa shrugs. “Yeah, sure. See you soon, okay?” As Villa goes, he turns and says over his shoulder, “Carlos is looking for you. Stop avoiding him, all right?” Of course Villa had noticed that, Villa always noticed the things you didn’t want anyone to notice.

David’s about to go find Carlos, really he is, when Carlos finds him. “There you are.” Carlos sounds a bit harried, a little annoyed. “I’ve been looking for you.”

David looks down at the floor. “Here I am.”

Carlos laughs a little. “I can see that.” David studies the pattern of the tiles in the floor. “I’m leaving soon,” Carlos says quietly, “I just wanted--” He trails off.

“Yeah?” David mumbles. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt and doesn’t look up. He’s not sure what will happen if he looks at Carlos right now. He’s not sure he wants to know.

Carlos puts his hands on David’s shoulders and squeezes gently. “Silva.” David stubbornly--childishly--keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “David,” Carlos sighs, “come here.” Carlos comes closer and wraps his arms around David, pulling David forward. David resists. He plants his feet and refuses to be drawn forward. There’s a finality--an ending--in this moment that he’s not ready for, that everything in him wants to deny for as long as possible. Carlos ignores David’s resistance and crowds closer, exploiting the advantage of his superior size and strength--something he rarely does with David off the pitch--to compel David forward into his embrace.

It was always a losing battle, resisting Carlos, and now, having lost, David also surrenders. He pushes as far as he possibly can into Carlos’ embrace. He closes his eyes and presses his face in Carlos’ shirt. He tries to memorize the feel of Carlos against him, every detail of it, from the warmth of Carlos’ body to the way Carlos smells. Carlos doesn’t say anything he just holds David tight.

David’s not sure how long they stand there. Finally Carlos eases back a little. David keeps his gaze fixed on Carlos’ shirt. He can’t make himself look at Carlos’ face. He’s afraid of what his reaction would be. Carlos doesn’t release David completely, he just pulls back slightly and says softly, “I’ll see you soon, okay?” All David can think is, not soon enough. David doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look up, he just nods.

Carlos gives him a squeeze then steps back. He leaves his hands on David’s shoulders. “You’re going to be fine,” Carlos says. He says it with a certainty that David envies. He wishes he was half as sure as Carlos seems to be.

David still can’t bring himself to look Carlos in the face, so he just stares at the floor and says, “Yeah, I guess.”

“No.” Carlos tips David’s chin up. “No, none of this.” The look on Carlos’ face is fiercely intent. David tries to look back down but Carlos roughly forces David’s head back up. “No,” Carlos says again, then adds, his voice just as fierce as the look on his face, “You keep your head up. Everything will be fine. You will face what is coming head on, the way you have faced everything else. Understand?”

In that moment, staring straight into Carlos’ eyes, David believes. He believes, maybe for the first time, that it will be fine. “I understand.”

Carlos expression softens and he pats David’s cheek. “Good.” He chucks David under the chin, a gesture David tolerates only because it’s Carlos, and says, “Remember, always, chin up.”

David smiles. He feels strangely relaxed--almost relieved. He leans up and kisses both Carlos’ cheeks. “Good luck,” he says, “I’ll see you soon.”

_five_

David wants to sleep on the plane but it’s too loud and he just can’t find a comfortable enough position. The harder he tries to sleep the more sleep eludes him. By the time the plane lands in Madrid, David is tired and irritable and generally out of sorts.

When David steps outside, he blinks into the Madrid sun. He’s only really been in Manchester a matter of days but that’s long enough to make him miss the intense brightness of the sun in Spain. In Manchester the sun comes, stays a fleeting moment or two, and then goes. It doesn’t shine the way it shines in Spain. Instead of making him feel better, though, the brightness of the sun just increases his irritation, just reminds him of all the other things he misses when he’s in Manchester.

In the car on the way to the hotel, David tips his head back against the seat and tries again to sleep. It doesn’t work. He gives up after awhile and just sits there with his eyes closed, listening to the hum of the car.

When he finally reaches the hotel, he’s ushered quickly through the entrance by a team representative. He’s talking rapidly at David about lunch and about who’s already arrived. David barely listens. They arrive at where lunch will be served and the room is filled with David’s teammates and other members of the staff but David only really sees one person.

David makes his way across the room. He barely acknowledges the greetings he receives, just nods absently. When Cesc greets him and leans in for hug, David dodges him and calls over his shoulder, “Sorry, sorry later, okay?” He doesn’t pay attention to Cesc’s response, doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t stop walking until he reaches his goal.

When he’s finally in front of Carlos, though, he falters, all of a sudden unsure of what to do now that Carlos is right there within his reach. Then Carlos smiles, wide and welcoming and so, so familiar, and opens his arms. David steps forward into Carlos’s embrace.

David presses himself into Carlos’ hug and doesn’t let go. Carlos doesn’t say anything he just runs his hand up and down David’s back and lets David cling. David turns his face into Carlos’ chest so that, for a moment at least, Carlos is the only thing in the world, the only thing he can see. He knows he should let go and step back but he really doesn’t want to. Reluctantly, David starts to pull away but Carlos tightens his arms around David and says, “I missed you.”

David smiles into Carlos’ chest. “I missed you too.”

Carlos laughs a little and says, “I never would have guessed.”

“Shut up,” David says and presses closer.


End file.
